Reasoning with Darkness
by InsaneGoddess
Summary: After the events in the trio's 6th year, Hogwarts closes. Draco goes into hiding at Durmstrang, as does Hermione, disguised as a boy. Add in the fact that they are in the same dormitory, and things are definitely going to get interesting...


Draco grimaced as another mosquito bit him on the arm. He angrily slapped at it, and walked inside his bug proof tent. It was an old muggle thing, made of mere plastic tarp and screens. Stupid muggles didn't even know how to make a simple tent right any more!

"Mother, why can't we just use a_ little_ magic to keep the bugs away? This is almost worse than being captured by Lord Voldemort!" He complained, slapping another bug that had just landed on his sweaty neck.

He and his mother, Narcissa were hiding in Egypt, hoping that Voldemort and his followers would not track them there...In order for them to stay completely hidden, his mother had taken away his wand and insisted that no magic be used unless absolutely needed. In other words, unless Draco was an inch from death or being brutally attacked, he couldn't use any magic at all. For Draco, this was the most intolerable thing ever. He didn't even have the luxury of any muggle entertainment systems, as they were out in the desert far away from any "power plugs" as the muggles called them. The most that he had done while here was capture a snake, which had cruelly bitten him on the hand. He had angrily kicked it away and laid in bed the rest of the day ill.

Draco sighed, and plopped onto his hard cot to rest. It was the middle of August; meaning Hogwarts would be starting once more in less than two weeks. At the thought of the school, he shuddered. After the previous year...Well, let's just say, he considered that the worst year of his life. Even the beginning of the school year started horribly. He hadn't meant to bloody Potter up so bad, he was just so angry with his father. His father offered him up on a silver platter. He must've known that Draco wouldn't do it...Just thinking about this made Draco pissed off. He punched his pillow in frustration, remembering that it was because of his father that he was here in this desolate place now. He started to feel claustrophobic in the small tent, so he got up and burst through the tent flap, sending flurries of ground dust up behind his shoes.

He had already been just about everywhere surrounding their campsite, so the ground he was now walking on was not unfamiliar territory. Draco got a sudden burst of adrenaline, and began to run toward an object in the distance that looked like a tree. His leg muscles ached within moments, because he had not used them for any rigorous exercise in so long. His lungs were screaming by the time he had reached the cactus protruding from the ground. He panted slightly, sweat rolling down his neck and soaking the top of his shirt. The humidity and heat of Egypt took some getting used to, and Draco hadn't had any time to adjust. He kneeled over, trying to catch his breath when he heard a low growl emerge from behind him. He groaned and turned on his heel, trying to prepare himself for the worst. In the dirt behind him stood a jackal. She stood about two feet off of the ground, and had a black stripe of fur going down her back, contrasting her tan body. Something moved at her feet, and as Draco saw what it was, he wished he had his wand with him. It was a mother jackal, and her cubs were trying to go back to their den, which was, unfortunately, located behind Draco. He knew that a mother was protective of her cubs, and that he was probably invading on their territory. The jackal growled deeper, raising her hackles, and the hairs on Draco's arms stood up. He needed something to fend her off with, and he needed it now.

Stumbling slightly, he leaned over quickly and jerked the cactus up out of the ground with his bare hands, ignoring the sharp pricks of pain that he felt. The needles dug deeper into his skin as he gripped his newfound weapon as tight as he could.

"I hate Egypt..." Draco muttered under his breath before swinging the cactus at the jackal's face, screaming angrily at her. She nipped at the cactus, getting a mouth full of needles. Yelping in pain, she scampered away, her tail between her legs. She pushed her pups in front of her.

Draco dropped the cactus like a hot fire poker. He stared at his hands, which were covered in needles, and started to pluck them out one by one. _So_, he thought to himself. _This is how muggles live their lives? I pity every last one of them…_

He snarled in disgust at his slightly blood-covered hands, and he once more wished he had had his wand with him. This muggle world was not well suited for him. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, and started back to camp. His skin was not meant to be exposed to the harsh sun for hours, and it was letting him know by blistering and reddening. He dragged his feet as he dwelled on the lack of magic. With his luck, the only way that he would be allowed to use magic again, was if he went to school. At the thought of Hogwarts, he felt a wave of guilt pass over him as he saw a vivid memory of Dumbledore dying play over and over in his mind. He had lowered his wand… he hadn't wanted to hurt Dumbledore, but his mother's Unbreakable Vow with Severus had guaranteed Dumbledore's death. Draco almost regretted it, except that if Dumbledore had not died, Lord Voldemort would surely have killed Draco. Draco was afraid. For the first time in his life, he was genuinely frightened. It was because of this reason that he wanted to go to school. If he died here, it would be alone, in the desert, where possibly the jackal would eat his remains. iWhat if I don't go to Hogwarts? What if I were to go to… Durmstrang/i He became full with excitement as he considered this. Indeed, his mother would have to approve. She was always looking for him to get more power. His steps quickened as he neared the tent.

Draco stepped inside of the thin walls that were now his home, and he made his way over to his cot once more, and fell onto it, exhausted. Now that he had stopped moving, his hands had begun to hurt, and his muscles began to cramp.

He watched the pounding Egyptian sun through the tent screen as it lowered down the horizon, finally sinking behind a dune of sand. He stood up and stretched, reaching for a packet of muggle flame-makers called matches. He struck several on the box, failing to light them all, before finally striking one to a flame. He pressed the fire to a kerosene lamp wick, and lantern light filled the tent. His mother was still asleep on her cot, a book lying open at her side. He walked over to her and gently shook her soldier as not to scare her. He needed to talk to her about school.

"Mother!" He hissed. She didn't move. "Mother! Wake up..." He said, a bit louder. She rolled onto her side, facing away from him. He rolled his eyes irritably, and then, in his snakiest voice, he said "Sssleep welll Narccissa?" His voice came out sounding remarkably like Lord Voldemort's. She gasped and leaped out of bed, whipping her wand from under the mattress. She opened her mouth to croak out a curse, but then saw that it was only her son, Draco. She trembled with fear and fury as she snapped at her son "Don't you _ever_ do that again, or you will find yourself suspended from the roof of this tent by your toes, you hear me?"

Draco grinned to himself, while solemnly nodding his head at his mother's threat.

"Yes, mother. It will not happen again." He tried to suppress a snicker, but couldn't help himself. "Alright, Mother, let's get serious...We need to discuss an important topic..."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "If this is about that new broomstick again, Draco, I'm going to pull my hair out!"

He laughed. "It's not about the broomstick. It's about...school."

She paused, her mouth slightly open. "Draco... you can't possibly be thinking about going back to _Hogwarts_ again, can you? You know you can't show your face there after your fath-" she broke off in the middle of her sentence at the look of disgust on Draco's pale face.

"No Mother," he said impatiently. "I do not want to go back to Hogwarts. I would like to attend Durmstrang."

"Draco, darling, you know perfectly well that Durmstrang is the first place they would look for you!" Narcissa exclaimed, looking extremely surprised. "You can't possibly...Why would you..."

Shaking his head, Draco decided to explain. "Mother, I know that Durmstrang is the first place they would think to look for me. But, I have also realized that this is also the last place they would actually consider looking for me at. You see, Mother, Voldemort is clever. He knows that I am too intelligent to consider going to Durmstrang, but he does not know that I am also clever enough to see through his plan..."

Narcissa shook her head slowly, not wanting to put her son in danger. He was right though, she knew. Durmstrang may be the worst place for him to be, but it was also the safest. Her shoulders collapsed as she spoke.

"Draco... you are right. As much as I would like you to stay... it would be in your best interest to send you there. At least at Durmstrang, you will be among other students, and you will be learning more of the Dark Arts. You need to acquire as much power as you can at a time like this."

"Why does it always have to be about power with this family?" Draco asked quietly, containing his anger. He saw the confused look on his mother's face change to regret. He shook his head. "Please, Mother, just forget I said that..."

Her eyes widened as the impact of what her son had just said sank in. "Why does it have to be about power? I will tell you why. The Malfoys are a pure blood family. We are the highest standard of witches and wizards. Not having high levels power will ruin the reputation of our bloodline. Sirius Black has already muddled our blood, do you want to as well?" Her voice raised an octave as she said all of this. "You will go to Durmstrang, and you _will_ learn the Dark Arts a thoroughly as your father has. End of discussion! Now go pack your trunk… I expect the term will be starting soon." She then strode out of the tent haughtily, knocking a vase over in her haste to leave the heated discussion. Draco closed his eyes, trying to contain his anger. It had been _he_ who had suggested that he attend Durmstrang! Not her… His mother did this all the time. She always tried to make everything into a dramatic production, then make it seem as though he was the bad guy in the situation. Draco frowned. _Was_ he the bad guy? He didn't know; all he knew was that he could not go back to Hogwarts, and Beaxbatons, being an all girls academy, was out of the question.

Lost deep in thought, he wandered out of the tent, and took a few steps into the light cast by the full moon, tilting his head up and letting the light sink through his eyelids. If he hadn't been so irritated, Draco might have even felt a bit of content. But, alas, he was extremely irritated, so content was nowhere to be found.

Hearing a sound of movement behind him, Draco turned around. "Mother, is that you?" He questioned, before taking a step back. It was not his mother...or even a human, for that matter. It was another snake. "Damn snakes..." He muttered, backing up slowly. The snake, spotting him, hissed, his tongue tasting the air cautiously. Suddenly, a large owl dropped from the sky, screeching as it dove onto its prey. The snake was carried away about ten feet, before the owl dropped from the sky to digest his dinner. Draco stood up and walked toward the owl, keeping his distance as though not to scare it off. But, the distance wasn't enough. The owl looked up at him, then grabbed the rest of its meal and flew away. Where it was flying, Draco didn't know. iHow can an owl ever survive in the desert/i He wondered, gazing in the general direction the bird had flown. iMaybe somebody owned it.../i In that case... if he captured the owl, it would already be trained, and he could send a confirmation letter to Durmstrang with it!

Draco smirked to himself, and started trotting in the direction the bird had flown, trying to be as quick and quiet as possible. After only running a short distance, he spotted the tawny feathers and the half-eaten snake a few feet in front of him. Draco the let a soft coo issue from his chapped lips as he held his arm out from his body, coaxing the bird to perch on his arm. The owl's yellow eyes glared at him as her beak continued to chew it's meal. Without any further coaxing, she spread her massive wings and flew up to Draco's arm, resting her scaly feet on his used-to-be-pale, sunburned arm.

He gently reached out and started to stroke her head, trying to earn her trust so that she would deliver one letter for him. He turned his back to the half-eaten snake, and began to walk back to the tent again, trying to avoid any obstacles that the darkness might cover. He ducked inside his tent, and looked around for his mother, who was still outside somewhere. He shook his arm, dislodging the owl so that she would fly somewhere and perch, leaving him free to write his letter. She soared a short distance, finally coming to a stop on top of his old Hogwarts trunk. Draco walked over to the writing desk that took up the majority of the left hand side of the tent, and took a seat in the dusty wooden chair sitting next to it. He produced a new page of parchment and a quill, setting them in the middle. Draco unscrewed a bottle of black ink before hastily dipping his quill into it and writing the first words on the page.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I am a seventh year boy that goes by the name of Corad Jackal. I would like to be registered in Durmstrang because I realize that Durmstrang is the best place for a proper education. I am willing to pay a small entrance fee, if required._

_Thank you for your time,_

Draco set down the quill and admired his handiwork. He chose the name Corad because it contained the letters of his own first name, and he would be able to use it with ease knowing that he hadn't entirely lost who he really was. He signed his new name at the bottom of the letter with a flourish, before neatly folding it up inside of a yellow emblazoned envelope. Draco stood up and approached the owl, preparing to tie it to her leg. The owl seemed to be glaring at him, yet she did not protest when he began to tie the letter to her leg. Draco, feeling generous, opened his Hogwarts trunk and handed her an owl treat-his last one. The owl quickly gobbled it up, then Draco opened the flap of the tent, and she flew out.

Draco glanced at his Hogwarts trunk, that had the Hogwarts crest printed in the leather of the lid. He and his mother could not afford a new trunk, so he would definately have to get rid of the crest if he wished to use it for Durmstrang. Sighing at how difficult everything had become in the last few months, Draco knelt by the trunk, and lit another match. He then held it close enough to the crest that it would burn without going out. _Knowing my luck at the moment, I'll light the whole thing on fire..._ Draco thought as he carefully began to burn off the crest. Its paint began to curl and peel, and before long, he was wiping the remains off with his hand. Now, all the had to do was change the name...He could do that later with magic, he decided. At the thought of finally being able to use magic again, Draco grinned with anticipation.

But there was just one problem; his appearance. He couldn't go to Durmstrang looking like himself, people would see through his fake name without a thought. He began to think of ways that he could change his appearance. Obviously, he could not go to school being the same pale blonde-haired boy as before. Draco stared a moment at his sunburned skin, and decided that if he were to get a dark tan, it would help with his disguise a lot. He then studied his pale hair in the small hand mirror his mother had brought. It was so bright that it almost shone in the candle light. Draco paused. He knew that he could dye his hair, but he had nothing to dye it with, and he couldn't go buy anything, as he was in the desert. No magic, no muggle hair products, and no permanent ink. Perhaps his mother would know...His mother! He hadn't seen her for at least two hours! Something had to be wrong. Draco slipped out of the tent, looking around carefully. "Mother!" He yelled, shattering the peaceful silence. "Mother?" He yelled even louder. Where in Merlin's name was she, anyways?

Draco started to look around uneasily. He knew something was wrong. Forgetting about everything dangerous that could be lurking beyoud the deepening shadows, Draco started running frantically, his feeling of dread growing with each step that he took. It seemed like he had been searching for an extremely long time, and his lungs were burning. But, he continued to run. His mother was the only thing he had left, and if he lost her...He had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Suddenly, his foot connected with something rather solid, and he went sprawling to the ground, scraping his chin on the rough ground. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get back to his feet. As he glanced over at the object that had tripped him so suddenly, Draco froze in horror. It was his mother. Her hair was spread out wildly, creating a blonde river on the desert ground. Her eyes were wide open and empty, staring at the moon with unblinking, unseeing eyes. There was no blood, and no sign of a struggle. Draco let out a strangled gasp as he stumbled to his feet, backing up rapidly from his mother's dead form. Had the Death Eaters found her, and killed her? Draco heard a sound of movement far behind him, and spun around, his hand automatically going for his back pocket where he had always kept his wand. Of course, it wasn't there. His eyes scanned the darkness, straining in the almost pitch-black conditions. He cursed to himself as he saw the hooded robes of a Death Eater appear in the darkness. _He's found us!_ Draco thought, starting to feel panic. Without another thought, he burst into an all-out sprint back to the tent, listening to the hurried conversations of the Death Eaters pursuing him. He looked back at his mother's dead body, and choked out a sob as he ran. "Draco, you idiot!" He muttered. "You should never have let her go off by herself!" By now, he wasn't that far from the tent. If he could just slip in there and grab his wand before they found it, he could apparate to a safer place, and defend himself if needed.

Finally, Draco stumbled into the tent. He threw nearly everything he saw into his trunk, including his mother's mirror, the sack of wizard gold they kept on the bed stand, and the contents of the desk. Then, he reached under the mattress of his mother's cot and pulled out his wand. He closed his trunk, got a firm grip on the handle, and apparated. Draco felt slightly nauseated as he and his trunk appeared next to his mother's body once more. He knelt down next to her and stroked her cheek, which was still warm. Draco took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He and his mother had never been close, but now that she was gone, Draco was taking her loss harder than he would have imagined. Behind him, a loud curse erupted, and in the distance, Draco saw his tent bust into flames, lighting up the area around it to show a pair of hooded Death Eaters, both armed with wands. Draco found himself briefly wondering if his father was one of the Death Eaters that had done this to his mother. He turned again to her lifeless body, folding her arms over her chest, and gently closing her eyes. This gave Narcissa a more peaceful appearance, putting Draco at some ease. Draco reached behind her neck, and unclasped her locket, clutching it tightly in his sweaty fist. His breath grew shaky as he heard the Death Eaters coming back in his direction. Draco grasped the handle of his trunk, ready to apparate again. He glanced over his shoulder and paused. He couldn't leave her body here for them to take! What if Voldemort turned her into an inferi, as he had done with so many of his victims sixteen years earlier? He hurriedly pulled out his wand once more, and yelled out: _Incendio!_ Her body erupted in flames, giving her a cremation almost instantly. The footsteps grew closer, as well as the muffled voices. He took a deep breath and muttered an incantation beneath his breath. Sparks shot from the tip of his wand in the general direction of his mother's body. Instantly, her ashes began to stick together, glowing red with heat. Then, there was a small cracking sound, and in place of the ashes was a small gem. He bent over and picked it up as well, storing it inside her golden locket. Draco heard the crunch of shoes on the ground, and he dissapparated as quickly as he could, taking his trunk with him. A flash of green light passed through the air where his head had been only moments before.

"Dammit!" Lucius Malfoy's voice drawled from under one of the hoods. "Bellatrix, you were supposed to grab him! After I received Narcissa's letter, we went over this, remember? You would grab him, I would kill him!"

Seconds later at a dock in Northern Russia, there was a popping sound, and Draco Malfoy appeared. As soon as he felt solid ground beneath his feet, he fell to his knees, eyes closed. He stood back up, slowly, then grabbed his trunk handle, and began to walk towards a small inn about 100 yards away. He wiped the sweat and dirt from his eyes, spotting some blood that had come from his scraped chin on his white shirt. He wondered who in their right minds would let him stay in a motel looking like he had just escaped from prison. He was unusually calm for someone who had just narrowly escaped being killed at the tip of his mother's friend's own wand. Above Draco's head was a large sign that welcomed him to the Drippy Potion, a wizarding pub that he and his mother had visited only months earlier. Draco paused, then set down his trunk, opened it, and began searching for his cloak. Once he found it, he pulled it out and wrapped it around his shoulders, then closed the trunk. He was about to pick his trunk back up when he realized he could now use magic, considering he was in a wizarding village. He muttered a levitation spell, and walked into the inn, his trunk floating behind him.

Once Draco had entered the Drippy Potion, he walked up to the owner, a large, bear-like man, and requested a room for the next week. "That'll be seven sickles..." The owner said, and Draco grudgingly handed over the money. Times must be rough, considering one room had only cost five sickles a few months ago. Still lost in his thoughts, Draco followed the owner up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. "Room nineteen," The owner said, pulling Draco from his thoughts. Draco thanked the man, then entered the room. It was rather small, with one bed in the corner, and a folded up cot up against the wall. Draco's face was emotionless as he moved his trunk to the foot of his bed. He glanced down at his hand, which was still clutching his mother's locket and ruby. Draco slowly buckled it around his neck, and let it slide beneath his tunic-like shirt. He didn't want anybody asking any uncomfortable questions about it. Next he proceeded to unpack his hastily thrown together trunk, putting everything in its proper place in his room. With nothing left to do, Draco fell asleep on his moth-eaten bed, curled in a small ball, his mother's locket clenched in his fist.

The next morning, Draco was awoken by an argument being had by two middle-aged women right outside his door. A year ago, Draco would have gone right out into the hallway and told them to shut it, or else he would hex them. However, Draco had changed, and he wasn't sure if it was for the better. He snorted at his new attitude and thought to himself sarcastically: _Maybe I'll start courting Mudbloods, or even saving the giants next._

Smirking, he went into his tiny bathroom and took a long bath, taking care to clean out all of his scratches from the night before. After enough scrubbing, and a small healing spell, his sunburn disappeared, leaving his skin remarkably tanner, and a lot less scaley looking. Now for his hair... Draco got out of the tub, let it drain, and threw on a pair of boxers and a beater before looking himself over in the mirror. The tan definitely did make him look different, but he stuck out like a sore thumb with his hair. Perched on the sink in a small dirty old cup was a pair of scissors. They were rusty and old, but would do very nicely for what he had in mind. Draco lifted a lock of his medium-length hair and began to trim, cutting off about an inch. His hair was somewhat shorter, but not so short that his head would be extremely cold in the chilly Russian weather. Now the only problem was the color; how would he change it. There weren't any hair-color changing spells, as far as he knew, and there certainly weren't any muggle stores around that could sell him some hair dye. Draco thought for a moment, before sticking his head out of his room. The two ladies were still bickering, and Draco smirked to himself. "Excuse me ladies, but does either of you have some spare ink I could borrow? I've used all of mine."

The ladies look surprised, but the taller one reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of ink. "Thank you, I'll be sure to give it back when I'm done."

Draco then took the bottle of ink, and unscrewed the top so that he could see how much was left. Perfect. He walked over to the sink in the bathroom, and plugged it so that nothing could go down the drain. He then poured the ink bottle's contents into the stone sink, and diluted it some with water. Pausing for only a second, Draco took a deep breath and slowly dipped his head into the inky water, taking care not to get it on his skin, and only on his scalp enough for the roots to be dyed. He held his head there for a moment, working the ink into his hair with his fingers. After about five minutes of this, he hurridly removed his head from the water, and put it over the bathtub, making sure nonthing dripped on the floor. Draco then turned on the faucet and lightly rinsed out his hair, before wrapping it in a dirty towel provided by the inn on a hook near the bathroom door. Draco rougly towel-dried his hair, and then straightened up to look at himself in the mirror. He choked. All of the hair on his head was black, yes, but he had stupidly forgotten to dye his eyebrows as well! Snorting in disgust, he dipped his fingers into the ink once more, and rubbed it well into his eyebrows as well. A few minutes later, completely dry and all of his hair fully dyed, Draco admired his handiwork in front of the mirror. That's when he noticed that he hadn't ever cleaned his hands. The skin on the tipes of his fingers was black. Draco rolled his eyes, then pulled out his wand and carelessly removed the stain from each finger. When he was done, he placed the diluted ink back into the bottle and screwed the top back on. Draco walked out of his bathroom, and opened the door to his room once more. Sure enough, the two ladies were still standing there, except now they were talking pleasantly. _Women!_ Draco thought. He tapped the taller lady on the shoulder, then handed her the bottle of think. "Thank you again," He said, then strolled back into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. The woman who he had handed the bottle back to looked from her ink bottle to his hair, and back again, before shrugging it of carelessly.

Draco stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to get used to his new look. He admitted that he didn't look horrible. In fact, the new look kind of suited him. As he stood admiring himself in the mirror, the large tawny owl with which he had sent his letter to Durmstrang flew in his window and landed easily on his cot. The owl ruffled her feathers lightly, and stuck out her leg promptly, a large envelope attatched. Draco jumped at first, his wand in his hand in mere seconds, but as he saw that it was only an owl, he relaxed and strode over to the bed to retrieve what he had hoped would be his admission letter.

Sure enough, when he opened it, the first lines on the piece of folded parchment read:

_"Dear Mister Corad Jackal,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Durmstrang Academy. Upon your arrival, you will be tested on your skills and knowledge, as we do not know the extent of your knowledge yet..."_

There was another piece of paper attatched to this letter, and as Draco looked at it, a sly smile spread across his face. Now _this_ was the kind of stuff a wizard needed to know! He had been looking at his booklist, and on it was the most exciting set of schoolbooks Draco had ever laid eyes on.

- _Dark Arts; Secrets Revealed_

(By Morina Hallowryn)

- _Advanced Potions (Yr 7) _

(By Lucinda Shakenshire)

- _Occlumency: Reading Minds_

(By Kenneth Wicken)

_- Advanced Curses and Hexes_

(By Martryn Palegroid)

Draco closed the letter, and looked down at the owl who was looking up at him expectantly.

"I have no more treats, owl! Go away and find your real owner!" he shooed it.

The owl sat there and continued to stare at him menacingly. "Suit yourself, you can stay, but I am not feeding you anything!"

At these words, the owl flew off out the window, screeching in annoyance. Draco smiled smugly, and glanced at the letter once more. The next term would be starting in less than a week, and he still had to buy his uniform and supplies! He walked over to his bag of money, and started counting. He decided that he had roughly enough to buy everything he needed, and still have some leftover for once the school year ended. It was his last year anyways, and he would need a job soon as well. As Draco started to scoop the coins into his leather pouch, the owl flew in the window again, this time carrying a live mouse in her talons. She landed on his bed and began her work. Draco made a sound of disgust as the owl started to snap the mouse's neck, and peck at it's exposed flesh. "Alright, if you're going to stay with me, we have to lay down a few rules. First of all, no eating on the bed. Second, no pestering me to give you food, because I am NOT going to spend money on you. Third, you deliver _what_ever I want you to _when_ever I want you to. Got it, bird?" Draco said threateningly. "Great, now I'm talking to a bird. All of this is getting to my head…"

Draco stood up from the bed while stretching, pulled on some pants and a black sweater, and grabbed his cloak from the coat rack, throwing it over his shoulders as he strode out of his room door, headed towards the wizard market to see if they had all of his supplies for school. As he walked, he could feel the weight of his mother's locket around his neck, a solid reminder of what had happened the day before. Draco passed the bear-like innkeeper, who did a double-take as he realized that the young man that had just passed him was the very same that had come into the inn only last night. Draco smiled, pleased. His disguise, so far, was a very good one.


End file.
